


Between You and Me

by silverwolf_fox



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Drinking, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Tartaros Arc (Fairy Tail), Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 07:15:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14350563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverwolf_fox/pseuds/silverwolf_fox
Summary: Intent on drowning her sorrows away, Lucy never expected to find comfort and understanding from Fairy Tail's resident seith mage, Bickslow. She is filled with guilt from the choice she made during Tartaros. He is shamed because of the magic he uses. Can these two help to fight each other's demons?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I love Bickslow so very much. I find him fascinating. There just isn’t enough love for him, so here’s a little diddy for him and Lucy!
> 
> Give it up for my beta, C.K.!

 

The heavy bass of the music pounded through the club. It sent tremors down the spines of the people that were dancing throughout the room, amplifying the atmosphere as they grinded against each other. Everything smelled of sweat and cigarette smoke. Even for a Saturday night, it was extremely crowded. Everyone was taking the opportunity to let loose after a long and stressful week of work. The staff was slammed, with two male and female bartenders working the counter, and a couple of servers working the room while holding trays of shots. 

Amongst the cheering party-goers, where the liquor was flowing and spirits were high, there was a single soul who was drowning her sorrows.

With an elbow propped up on the sticky, dark oak bar counter, her cheek propped up on her hand, she swirled what was left of her third glass of cranberry and bourbon. Though in all honesty, it was more bourbon than cranberry.

She took a sip, reveling in the soft burn that trailed down her throat. Her legs, dressed in thigh high black stockings, crossed at the ankles. Due to the height of the bar stool, the black pumps she wore hovered inches off the floor. After a brief moment of consideration, she tilted her head back and downed the rest of the drink. The young woman held up the glass and made eye contact with one of the bartenders, gesturing to indicate her need of a refill.

Somebody dropped onto the stool beside her, angling their body in her direction. Her glass clanked when she placed it on the counter and rolled her eyes. This would hardly be the first guy tonight to hit on her. She began to turn, preparing herself to drop a rejection before returning to her own thoughts, when he caught her off guard.

“I’ve never seen you in so much black, Cosplayer.”

That was not quite the pickup line she was expecting. Lucy closed her eyes and took a deep breath, slowly letting it out, before she felt ready to deal with the seith mage. On second thought, the blonde decided to stare at the bartender until he finally found the time to walk over and fix her a new drink. Taking a deep swig, noticing with disappointment that this one wasn’t as strong, Lucy twisted in her seat to fully face her guest.

He grinned.

“Now, now, Cosplayer. I might start to think you have to be drunk to talk to me,” Bickslow teased. 

“Think what you want,” she replied with a roll of her eyes. When she took another sip, Lucy looked over the rim to observe her guildmate. He was dressed oddly, for him, mostly because he was wearing normal clothes. A black button up over a pair of blue jeans, though he still had on the usual metal visor over his eyes, his blue-black hair sticking out amongst the straps and buckles that held it in place. The most noticeable thing was the lack of his favorite accessories: the five wooden totems that normally floated around him. She could tell he noticed her stare when his eyes glowed a faint green, and his tongue slipped out of his mouth.

“I will think exactly what I want.” Lucy found it amazing how much pervertedness he was able to express with a single phrase. “For now, I’ll just think about how sexy you look tonight,” he commented, adding on, “not that that’s different from any other day.” Bickslow leaned against the bar top, catching the female bartender to order a lemon drop.

“As charming as I find you, Bickslow,” Lucy said drily, meeting his hidden gaze, “go away.” Anticipating a finished conversation, the celestial mage turned on her stool to face the counter and drink in peace. A glass was placed on the bar. Out of the corner of her eye, Lucy watched Bickslow roll up his sleeves before reaching out to grab his drink.

As long as he was quiet, she could forget he was there.

* * *

The senior mage took a long swig of his lemon drop, swirling around the mouthful to savor the tart taste. His eyes shined green as he looked at the ball of light in her chest that normally shimmered with a golden glow, but he was caught off guard by the edge of darkness surrounding it. Bickslow’s gut twisted when he caught sight of it.

Gold souls were rare enough, but it took something pretty tragic to introduce shadows into such a soul. His focus narrowed on that bright light until he vaguely noticed someone bumping his shoulder as they passed by, making him spill some of his drink over his hand.

Bickslow grunted and shook off the excess liquid on his hand before licking the back of his hand clean.

A crowded bar. Loud music thrumming through him. Alcohol burning his throat. While seeing the golden girl in a short black dress set a pleasant fire in him, he doubted that getting drunk alone in a club was her usual Saturday night. Bickslow raised his eyes to study the beautiful blonde’s profile. Her half-lidded eyes gazed into a red drink. The bob of her throat as she swallowed her liquor.

“What’s wrong?” It seemed like a normal thing to ask a guildmate that’s obviously upset about something, but he regretted it when she froze. Her breath caught and a hand clutched at her sweater dress by her heart.

“Leave.” Lucy’s grip on her glass tightened until her knuckles turned white. “Now.”

Her voice was flat. Despite the music and people around them, Bickslow felt a blanket of tension evolve between them. Gulping, he held up his hands in surrender. The seith mage picked up his drink and wandered off to the opposite side of the bar. It’s not surprising she wouldn’t want to spill her guts to him. They aren’t exactly close.

For the next hour, Bickslow drank and danced and flirted, enjoying his free night by himself. Or rather, he was trying, but the whole time he kept looking over towards Lucy. Even though they didn’t talk much, or ever really, she was still a member of Fairy Tail. Even with a sexy little redhead grinding against him, he couldn’t help but watch as his Cosplayer continued to fall into depression.

Bickslow’s hands gripped the girl’s hips, pressing himself flush against her. They thrusted to the beat of the music, her hands reaching up to curl in his hair. She looked up at him with bright green eyes and a smile on her lips. He smirked back, wagging his tattooed tongue at her. Anything to try and get his mind off of the sad girl at the bar.

Then, despite his intentions, his red eyes wandered back to her. The blonde was now cradling her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking. Bickslow glanced back down to his dance partner, then to Lucy. He closed his eyes, let out a breath, and prayed he didn’t regret this.

Bidding an unfortunate goodbye to the red head, Bickslow worked his way through the dance floor and returned to the bar, plopping down on the stool directly beside the distressed blonde. He rapped his knuckles against the wooden countertop.

“Ready to tell me what’s wrong?”

“She’s gone.” Lucy’s reply was near unintelligible due to her sobs. Bickslow frowned, wracking his brain to figure out who “she” could be. With no recent deaths or disappearances within the guild, he decided the direct route might be best.

“Who’s gone?” Bickslow leaned his elbows against the bar counter, hands clasped. When he turned his head towards her, one of her hands was gripping her dress. “You keep doing that,” he commented. She twisted her head and gazed at him with misty brown eyes, confused. He gestured to her hand, which tightened.

Lucy sniffled and straightened up. Wiping away her tears with one hand, she reached into the collar of her dress with the other. Bickslow is man enough to admit that he got a little more interested, but his heart dropped when he saw what she pulled out.

The broken handle of a golden key hanging from a thin, golden chain.

“Isn’t that…” The celestial mage nodded at the unfinished question. “But...when? How?” Fresh tears leaked from her eyes, leaving streaks in her already smeared mascara.

“During the attack on Tartaros,” she whispered, her voice hoarse and throat sore. Her fingers fiddled with the broken key, the thumb lovingly rubbing along the zodiac symbol. Bickslow’s eyes widened.

“But that was almost a year ago,” he replied just as quietly. Lucy’s breathing faltered, and a short, pained, slightly hysterical, laugh escaped her.

“Exactly one year. Actually.” As her eyes darkened, so did the shadows in her soul, and Bickslow’s worry for her deepened. Normally, when a soul gains a black edge, it settles and usually fades over time. The fact that her shadows were still fluctuating a year later was cause for concern.

Had she been hiding this the whole time? The seith mage waved someone down and ordered a pair of double shots for the both of them.

“Which one was it?” he asked, placing one of the shots in front of her. She slipped the broken key back under the collar of her dress, feeling its weight fall against her chest. Her fingers gingerly grasped the shot glass of golden liquid.

“It was, um,” Lucy paused to throw back the liquor, coughing as the burn of tequila tickled her throat. “It was Aquarius.”

“That was...” Bickslow started, going quiet for a moment as he scanned through what he remembered about the various spirits the celestial mage had contracts with, “...the mermaid, right? The one that tried to drown you all the time?”

“Yeah.” A shaky hand pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “Aquarius was the first spirit my mother taught me to summon.”

Everything around the two Fairy Tail members blurred together as the significance of the situation gripped Bickslow. It suffocated him. Bickslow thought about his souls and the idea of losing even one of his babies filled him with dread.

“I’m sorry,” he said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I understand how hard that must be.”

Something snapped within Lucy. She slammed down the shot glass she was holding on the wooden counter and spun around to give Bickslow the nastiest glare she could muster. Fire raged within her eyes as she knocked his hand away.

“No. You don’t,” she said, her volume rising until she was shouting. “No one understands how hard this is for me!”

“How could they? You never even gave them the chance! Did you even tell your team about this?” he demanded.

She froze. Her teeth were bared, and it was clear that she wanted to continue yelling at him. Continue throwing her anger at someone else, but what could she say? She didn’t tell her team. She didn’t even tell Natsu. Lucy didn’t want their pity. What if they felt guilty? Or worse, what if they didn’t? What if they felt like she was justified? Tried to explain that it was okay?

Because it wasn’t.

“Get me another drink,” she snapped at the bartender. Bickslow awkwardly looked over and asked to make it two.

As Lucy gulped down what looked like a scotch and soda, her steam slowly calming down to a simmer. He tapped his fingers lightly against his glass.

“You know,” he started, barely looking at her, “between you and me, I’m probably the only person in the guild who could understand.” She snorted and rolled her eyes.

“Doubt it,” she snarked, frowning. Her fingers traced shapes in the condensation that layered the outside of her glass. When Bickslow didn’t say anything, she tentatively glanced over and paused when she saw the serious set of his mouth. She bit her bottom lip, suddenly unsure. Hesitantly, she muttered, “How could you-”

“You know what I think?” he interrupted. When she remained silent, he gave her an understanding smile. Taking pity on her obvious discomfort for the conversation topic, he said, “I think we could both use another drink.”

And another drink they had. And another after that.

It was an unspoken agreement that as long as they kept drinking, then they didn’t have to talk about unsavory things. The hours quickly blended together. While Lucy had only wanted a quiet drink alone to sulk in her own misery, she had to admit that having Bickslow around to keep away the darkness was better by far.

He was an annoying pervert, but at least he was funny.

The two mages at the bar laughed so hard that tears were forming in their eyes. A few surrounding people sent them curious glances. The bartenders had a standing order to provide the Fairy Tail mages with new drinks whenever their glasses ran dry. Lucy’s cheeks were bright red and even Bickslow had some color in his face.

“...which led us upstairs, and that’s how we found the pig in his bed!” the seith mage finished.

“An-and Freed has no idea?” The celestial mage could barely breathe from the laughs that wracked her chest.

“Hell no! He’d kill me if he found out!” Grabbing her hand, Bickslow interlocked their pinkies. His tone turning mock serious. “So you can’t tell him,” he loudly whispered. Lucy laughed and agreed. “I’m serious. He will literally kill me.”

“Okay! Okay! I promise!”

“This is a Thunder Legion Pinkie Swear. You can’t break it.” He lightly shook their interlocked pinkies to emphasize his drunken point. Her laughs grew stronger, her face turning an even darker shade of crimson. She wobbled their hands side to side and smiled to show her assent.

A comfortable silence fell between them, both fighting the infectious laughter still bubbling up inside them. Their fingers still wrapped around each other’s. Lucy gazed at her companion, wishing for a moment that she could properly see his face.

Sliding near the edge of her bar stool, she lifted her free hand towards his visor, not expecting to accidentally slide off the edge. Her shoes hit the floor with a thump, and she stumbled forward, landing against Bickslow’s chest with a yelp. His hands grabbed her shoulders to hold her steady. Looking up, even with his visor on, Lucy could tell that he was watching her. Still set on her mission, she once again reached up only to have his hand grab her wrist before she got close to the metal shield.  

His jaw clenched, and the hand on her wrist tightened.

She could tell something was wrong, but based on their unspoken rule, she couldn’t ask. Instead, Lucy reclaimed her hand and clasped both hands around his.

“Come dance with me,” she said, forcing a smile. His body relaxed, and Bickslow slid out of his seat, using Lucy as a crutch to make sure he didn’t stumble.

It was well past midnight now, and the bar was in full swing. They worked their way through the crowd, Lucy leading him, never letting go of his hand.

Her hand felt warm and small in his.

The loud music vibrated through them, and several people bumped into them as everybody danced and stumbled around the floor. Lucy stopped in the middle of the floor and turned to face him. He wrapped an arm around her waist and held her other hand. Laughter forced its way out of Lucy when Bickslow began leading her in a waltz fast enough to keep up to beat with the pop song playing. It reminded her of when she taught the guild to dance for the Velveno job...at least until it turned into less of a waltz and more like two drunk people barely able to stand, spinning around completely unaware of the many people they nearly ran into.

Too much spinning was making her fuzzy mind nauseous, so she pulled Bickslow to a stop. Her breathing was staggered as she stared up at her friend. His quick breathing matched hers. Not letting herself think about it, Lucy slowly twirled and pressed her back up to his chest. Compared to the burning furnace of Natsu, the seith mage was a gentle flame. She felt protected instead of overwhelmed.

A hand pressed gently against her belly, his thumb drawing small circles. She allowed herself to lean back into his hold, enjoying the warm, solid body behind her. Despite the fast paced music around them, they softly swayed together. Her head fit comfortably underneath his chin, her fingers shifting to interlock with his.

Bickslow looked down and saw her head tilted back against his shoulder. Her eyes were barely open. He chuckled, and her lips tilted down in a frown at the shaking, and she lightly slapped his hand.

“Stop moving,” she muttered. Instead, he patted her cheek.

“Come on. I think it’s time to go.” Lucy let herself be pushed along as Bickslow walked her through the room, stopping briefly by the bar so he could pay off their tabs. Then they were out the door, where a cold breeze whispered past her face. She forced her eyes open and saw the stone street that she was being led down. All the moving made her dizzy so Lucy pressed her face into Bickslow’s shoulder.

If it hadn’t been for Bickslow’s strong arm around her waist, Lucy wouldn’t have been able to take two steps by herself. As it was, she had most of her weight leaning against him, and she had to put a lot of concentration into making sure one foot continued to move in front of the other. Since it was so late, the streets were dark and empty.

They hadn’t gone more than a block when the seith mage slowed them to a stop. He held up a bottle of water that he had gotten while he was paying off what had become two exorbitant tabs to Lucy’s lips. She whined and sealed her mouth closed causing Bickslow to roll his eyes.

“You have to drink some,” he chided. It took a whole minute before the girl, acting like a petulant child, opened her lips and let him pour some water in.

Water that she almost immediately threw back up plus extra. It splattered on the street, but Bickslow thanked Mavis that at least none of it seemed to land on them. He gave her a little more water to swish around and spit. They only got a few steps farther, the music from the bar still audible, when Lucy started to dry heave. Unfortunately, most of the alcohol she’d drank had already been absorbed into her system so there was nothing left to expel to help her feel better.

His hand rubbed her back while he propped her up against his hip to help hold her steady. She coughed, the rough sound clearing out her throat. After he helped straighten her back up, she slumped against him. He wrapped a solid arm around her, rubbing her arm to fight off the goose bumps forming from the chill.

“Bicks,” she breathed. “I dun’ feel very guhd.” 

“I know you don’t, Cosplayer.”  They slowly started moving forward again. One of her cold hands floated up to press against her forehead, feeling sweat-dried bangs, in the hopes of soothing her spinning head.

“I wanna sleep.”

“Only if you want to feel like shit in the morning,” he commented, pausing to offer her more water. “Now drink.” Ignoring her groan, he refused to move unless she swallowed some. Her face crinkled at the cold water sliding down her throat, raw from her heaving. “How about we get you home?”

“I don’t wanna go home!” Bickslow felt his eye twitch.

“But don’t you want to get some sleep?”

“Yes.”

“But you don’t want to go home.”

“Yes.”

“Why?” He tried to keep his tone neutral, but his patience with Drunk Lucy was running thin. He had heard that she was hilarious after drinking. Something involving cat noises and scratching? Instead, he got stuck with a sad, whiny Lucy pressing her face into his side.

“Cause that’s where they are,” she sniffled, her voice muffled by his shirt.

“Your team? I know they break in all the time, but that doesn’t mean-”

“No!” she groaned. “My keys.” Her misty eyes gazed up at him while she made him stop. 

Bickslow’s blood ran cold when she moved in front of him and curled her fingers into his shirt. Tears were pooling in her eyes and slipping down her cheeks.

“Please don’t make me face them tonight.”


	2. Chapter 2

 

Though her voice was quiet, the words were filled with anguish.

“Please don’t make me face them tonight.” 

The moment they passed her lips, Lucy’s brown eyes widened and her mouth fell open. A cold wind fluttered her bangs into her eyes, and the ice water flooding her veins brought a sober clarity to her mind. The words echoed between the shadowed buildings until they faded to gossiping whispers. A waning gibbous moon shined down, framed by a spattering of stars that were partially covered by a thin sheet of translucent clouds. Lucy wanted to meet his gaze. With the visor covering his eyes, it was almost impossible to tell what he was thinking. All she could see was a slack jaw and a slight parting in his lips to reveal his shock.

In that pale moonlight, Lucy could just make out her own reflection in the metal shield. Could see streaked mascara underneath brown orbs pooling with tears, surrounded by tangled blonde hair. Releasing her fingers from where they had curled into Bickslow’s shirt, her feet began to move backward.

“No...I…” With a shaky voice, her eyes darted around, as if searching for something amidst the darkness. Terrified that someone else could have heard her admission. Lucy turned on her heel, stumbling a bit when she started running. Bickslow gaped. He reached out, but his fingers barely managing to brush against hers. While he stood stunned, he could hear her pumps clomping against the ground and see her arms flailing as she tried to keep her balance while she got farther and farther away.

“Wha- Lucy!” Once his body could move, Bickslow took off down the street after Cosplayer. He couldn’t help but admire how fast she was, despite the issue it was currently causing him. Despite his longer legs, she had gotten around a turn and was nearing the canal before he managed to catch up, wrapping his fingers around her wrist to pull her to a stop.

A sharp wind cut through them. When he felt shivers run through her, his arms reached around and held her to his chest. One of his hands moved to hold her head to his shoulder.

If there was one statement to be held true, it was that Lucy of Fairy Tail loved her spirits. There was no arguing that fact. Even if she blurted it out without thinking, to admit that she didn’t want to be near them?

Something important must have happened.

Bickslow sighed through his nose.

“Listen...Lucy…” he began until her face tilted upward.

“Bickslow,” she interrupted. “Tell me why.”

“Why I’m so awesome? Guess I was just born this way,” he teased, feeling the tiniest bit smug when she hiccuped a laugh. Her arm reached across her eyes but no more tears formed. Her lips turned down in a frown when she saw the makeup smeared across her hand.

“No, you idiot.” Lucy bumped his shoulder. “What you said before.”

“I recall saying many things before. Can you be more specific?” The exaggerated eye roll forced a chuckle from him.

“Earlier you said that only you could understand. Out of anyone else in the guild. Why you?”

The seith mage gazed out towards the canal, his laughter fading, watching as the flowing dark waters splashed against the stone walls.

“You’ve heard of Desierto, right?” Bickslow supposed that the best place to start, so she could understand, would be the very beginning. He could feel her shift against him and hum while she thought.

“It’s a country to the east,” she replied, her tone signifying more confusion as to the subject change and an edge of irritation at his avoidance. “I don’t know much, except that it’s supposed to be almost entirely desert.” Back when the Heartfilia empire was in its prime, her father had been interested in trading with the other regions of Ishgar. However, Desierto didn’t have much to offer and so Jude Heartfilia moved on to other investors. When she was younger, Lucy just saw it as a place that she didn’t have to spend hours studying.

Bickslow nodded.

“It’s a relatively poor land, despite its massive size. Without an official government, the larger cities tend to be run by the army whereas smaller villages were usually led by crazy religious zealots. Surprisingly, it was actually a relatively peaceful place...as long as you didn’t cause trouble,” he added. While he spoke, Bickslow led them over to a bench set outside of a local bakery. The samples in the window made his mouth water, but because of the late hour all the light were off and the damning “Closed” sign was hanging by the door.

Plopping onto the bench, he groaned from the relief of getting off his legs. Lucy lowered herself down next to him, pressing up against his side to siphon off some of his warmth.

“Why do you know so much about Desierto?” she asked, her curiosity overwhelming. Not that she didn’t think Bickslow was smart, but he tended to act like an uncultured idiot.

“Because I was born there.” Though he said it nonchalantly, Lucy couldn’t help her quiet gasp of surprise. “I know, I know,” he continued, “I’m an exotic foreigner.” His arm slipped around her shoulders while his tongue fell out of his mouth. “Makes me even sexier, right?”

Unable to help herself, Lucy let out an unladylike snort. “You caught me, Bicklow. I’m head over heels now.” Despite the sarcasm lacing her words, she curled up her legs and pressed closer to her unlikely new friend. “Now shut up and tell me more about your home.”

Though finding her contradictory remark amusing, he couldn’t bring himself to laugh. Thinking about his homeland usually put him in a foul mood.

“Okay, Miss Bossy,” he began, mindlessly tapping his fingers against her arm. “Well, I lived somewhere on the west side, near the border of Minstrel.” Major exporter of silks and textiles, Lucy’s mind supplied. “It was this tiny farm town called Trigo Village.” And it was a total dump. Everything in that village was broken down and rotting. Wooden homes were in constant need of new repair, and it was always a struggle to keep the water irrigation working properly in order to keep the fields from drying out.”

“You were a farmer?” Lucy inquired in disbelief.

“In a way. Me and the other kids from the orphanage were sort of like free labor to help out wherever we were needed,” Bickslow explained. He closed his eyes as he thought about those days. Free labor is a nice way to put it. They were more like slaves to do whatever dirty work the adults didn’t want to do. From spreading cow manure around the fields to lugging heavy crates of grain to and from the silo, they would start working before the sun rose and long after it went down. 

“What kind of things did you grow? Fruit? Vegetables?”

“Have you ever been to a desert?” he chuckled. “Nah. We were a wheat town. Not as glamorous, I know, but I hear it pays the bills.” 

Bickslow smiled down at the sweet blonde who gazed up at him, her eyes squinted in what could only be concern.

“Something bad happened...didn’t it?” she whispered. The corners of his lips lowered, and he looked away.

After a long moment of silence, he responded, “Yeah. You could say that.”

_ It had been a typical night. He and his friends were pulling the last bags of grain into the silo for storage until the village needed them. They had almost finished when the lantern got knocked over and shattered, sparks catching the dried wheat on fire. Being the oldest at 12, he tried to find the others and help, but the fire spread so quickly across the old wood, and smoke was already clouding the air. Coughing against the ash, his eyes started to burn from the smoke when a small white light bounced around in the air beside him. _

_ It told him to get out. Burning wood fell from the rickety structure. There was a second and third ball of white light. A falling plank clipped his shoulder, sending him to the ground. Forced to pull himself along the ground, tremors ran through him when the door to the silo had collapsed, trapping him inside. The burning in his eyes grew stronger, and each of the glowing orbs emitted a green light that shot out and cleared the way. _

_ Dirt pressed into his fresh cuts and burns as he crawled from the burning silo. The flames rose high, dark smoke coating the sky, burning the night with light. His injuries hurt, but the flames licking behind him pushed him to drag himself away. The strange floating lights that now followed him, two more having joined the group, cheered him on. They wanted him to make it. _

_ “H-help,” the boy coughed. Trying again, but louder, he yelled, “Help!” _

_ He could hear shouts, feel the earth quiver as feet thundered towards him. When he attempted to look, his eyes flinched at the bright orbs he saw. One for every person. His skin felt hot, as if the blaze behind him was still licking his flesh. _

_ While people went to put the fire out, hands grabbed his arms to drag him further away, scraping his bare legs against the dirt. His eyes were shut against the brightness that he could see within everyone around him. _

_ “Bickslow!” _

_ “They’re still in there,” he rasped. His friends. He hadn’t seen them get out. Were they okay? Where were they? _

_ “Is he okay?” His body was propped up, the movement jarred him, and he broke out into a coughing fit. _

_ “Open your eyes.” Shaking his head, fingers grabbed his jaw and forced his head up. _

_ “What’s wrong?” the voice demanded. _

_ “The lights. They’re too bright,” he whined. The hand tightened almost painfully. _

_ “What lights? The fire?” _

_ “No, the lights inside you! The ones around me!” There was a crack when a hand made contact with his cheek. When he still wouldn’t open his eyes, he felt fingers pry open his left eyelid. _

_ Bickslow tried to flinch away from the shining light that assaulted his vision and from the angry shout when the man saw the gleaming green eyes.  _

_ Even with his eyes shut again, his eyelids glowed red from the fire. There was shouting around him. Suddenly, something grabbed his upper arms and pulled him up. _

_ “Take him to the church.” Smoke clogged his lungs as he was dragged away, screaming in confusion because he couldn’t figure out what was wrong. The air was filled with cinders, and the roaring fire was deafening to the young boy who refused to open his eyes. _

_ The church was one of the largest buildings, placed in the center of town. Bickslow felt his bare feet drag along the dirt road and then against a wooden floor, the old doors creaking as they were thrown open. He was dropped before the main altar, landing on his hands and knees. _

_ The whispers of the villagers assaulted his ears. They were called Figure Eyes, they said, but were considered to be the mark of a demon.  _

_ When the young boy tried to get up, a hand landed on his head, shaved due to the unyielding sun and the religious traditions of the town, and shoved him back down. _

_ “Pray for your sins,” the harsh voice of the Village Elder commanded. His eyes burned and his body ached from barely escaping the fire, but Bickslow kept his head down and remained on his knees, tears dripping onto the wood below him. _

_ He stayed there, praying until the sun began to creep through the church windows. _

_ Then the hinges of the large double doors whined as the villagers entered the building. Yanked to his feet, Bickslow was turned so that he faced the large crowd shuffling into the pews. Tremors ran through him, but also sweet relief that his vision had returned to normal and his eyes no longer hurt. _

_ An elderly man with a bushy gray beard and watery blue eyes, the preacher, stalked up to him. His cold, gnarled hands framed Bickslow’s face, and his thumbs lightly pulled down the lower lids of the boy’s red eyes. _

_ “Such a curse cannot be cured,” he stated in a withered voice. “We must take precaution so that all who see him will know of what possesses him.” As he spoke, another man walked forward. In his hands he carried a short metal rod with a rounded end and a large burning candle. _

_ Eyes widening, Bickslow struggled against the strong arms that held him. _

_ “He must be revealed as the soul stealing demon he is.” The elder took the metal pole from the man and set the rounded edge into the fire. The boy fought, kicking out his legs to keep the old man away from him. _

_ “Please! You can’t!” The white hot metal exited the flame. A wrinkled hand grabbed his jaw to hold his head still. “I did nothing wrong!” Tears pooled in the red eyes that refused to close as the burning rod grew ever closer. “I didn’t do anything!” _

_ He didn’t know whether he felt his skin smoldering or smelled the burning flesh first. _

_ He screamed until his throat turned raw. _

Lucy’s eyes filled with tears. As he spoke, the arm around her had begun to shake, and a small tear had appeared from under his visor. She placed a hand over his. It was the only comfort she could provide, as she had no words left to speak with.

With slow, measured movements, Bickslow moved his limbs to begin unbuckling the straps that held the metal shield on his face. He placed it in his lap and slowly turned his head to his companion. There was so much anguish swimming in his eyes. Her own dark honey eyes couldn’t help but glance at the black human figure that sat between his eyes. She had never imagined its origin had been so...cruel.

He sniffled and forced a bitter laugh. The wink he gave her had no feeling behind it as he tapped the mark.

“Bet you thought I got this for shits and giggles, huh?” His grin was strained, showing too much teeth to be sincere.

“Well...yeah,” she admitted, putting a fake smile. “Kind of.” Lucy twisted and sat up on her knees so that she was at face level with the other wizard. Her pale fingers inched toward the brand with trepidation, her face moving closer to his so that she could see it clearly even in the darkness of night. Bickslow moved his head back and clenched his jaw. Her hand faltered, pausing in the air, and waited for his assent. 

Even though he was white knuckling his helm, he pressed forward until her fingertips lightly began to trace the figure. The mark itself hasn’t hurt since he was a child, but Bickslow’s face burned as he felt her chilled touch trace softly along the straight bridge of his nose. It was a pleasant heat in his cheeks.

Lucy could see the strain as he tried to relax and let her touch him. It was hard to tell just from looking, but now she could feel the slightly raised scar tissue along his brow and nose. Being this close to him also gave her the chance to notice tiny details. Moving from the mark, her index fingers traced along his eyebrow as she observed the long lashes framing his eyes, then sliding along his hairline where there was a spatter of nearly invisible freckles.

The finger trailed down, bumping on the rough skin along his nose, down to trace his lips. In traditional Bickslow fashion, his tongue lolled out. Lucy pulled back her hand, giggling slightly which he responded in kind with a light chuckle, but then poked his Fairy Tail guild mark on the wet muscle.

Then her growing grin dropped, and Bickslow knew instantly what she had felt.

“They…”

“Yeah.”

“But, why?”

_ “This mark reveals your demon nature, and this one shall ensure that none will believe the lies you speak.” The boy’s skin was red and smoking, the pain unbearable, but he managed to remain conscious as the preacher slipped his fingers into Bickslow’s mouth and pulled out his long wet tongue. _

_ He tried to shake his head free, but there was no fight left in him. His muscles too weak and tired from trying before. All he could do was yell as the hot metal pressed against the fleshy muscle in his mouth. _

Thunder clapped in the distance. While his thoughts had been lost in the past, darker clouds had gathered. There was a pitter-patter as raindrops started to hit the ground. He watched as Lucy’s gaze softened and her eyes became half-lidded. Her jaws parted in a huge yawn.

“Come on, Cosplayer,” Bickslow said, rubbing her shoulder. “Let’s get you home.”

“Dun’ wanna go home,” she mumbled, slumping against his shoulder as exhaustion finally slammed into her.

“Alright then,” he sighed. Bickslow strapped his visor back over his eyes and stood up. The rain was falling harder, hitting cold against their skin. Grabbing an offered hand, Lucy pulled herself to standing but leaned heavily against him. “Guess you’re coming home with me, beautiful.”

The half-asleep girl nodded against his shoulder. Knowing she wouldn’t be able to walk quickly and not wanting to spend any more time in this weather as necessary, even though they were both already getting soaked, Bickslow knelt down and assisted her in getting on his back.

Even though the shared heat was nice against his back, it didn’t help with the cold, wet nose pressing against his neck. Her arms were draped over his shoulders, but he was holding up most of her weight with his hands gripping her thighs. His mask helped keep some of the rain from dripping onto his face, though Lucy resorted to pressing her face into him in a failing attempt to keep hers dry.

Since the drunk female mage had chosen to run off in the exact opposite direction of his apartment, Bickslow was forced to retrace their steps a couple of blocks before setting off towards the not-so-bad-but-not-good part of town. One of the few places he could find that would rent to a seith mage or to a Fairy Tail wizard. At least the latter was reasonable, considering their penchant for destruction.

He set a brisk pace, feeling his human package’s warm breath against his neck as she muttered in her sleep.

He smiled softly.

“Bix,” she breathed.


	3. Chapter 3

 

Nothing could be better than waking up to the worst hangover of her life. Each raindrop that plopped against the window made her wince. Lucy cracked open her eyes which served only to make her headache ten times worse, even though the room was dark and the sky outside gray with clouds. With a pained groan, she grabbed the thick comforter and pulled it up over her head. Surrounded by the sweet relief of darkness, the Celestial Mage nuzzled the incredibly soft pillow cradling her head like a pile of down feathers.

A light moan escaped her lips as her limbs stretched out across the queen-sized bed, joints pleasantly popping. The scent of cedar wood and grass surrounded her. She breathed it in, relishing in the strangely familiar scent. Allowing herself time to pretend she was still asleep, the memories of the night before came flooding in right as her hangover began painfully thumping in the back of her head. The following groan was either from the pain or the resounding embarrassment of what happened with Bickslow.

The blond slowly lowered the sheets to just below her cracked eyes. With the cold air of the room whispering against her skin, Lucy realized just how warm it was under the covers, almost uncomfortably so. She couldn’t hear anything except the pitter-patter of rain. Without letting herself move too much - the smallest flinch would unsettle her stomach - she took notice of the dark purple sheets wrapped around her set against a dark wooden bed frame. Slowly turning her head, her eyes fell upon a bedside table that had a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin.

Fighting the urge to puke, Lucy inched over to the far side of the bed until she could reach the small, white bottle and shake out two painkillers into her hand. After popping the lid back on, she let it drop from her grasp and roll along the bed, stopping when it bumped against her thigh. Groaning again, Lucy pushed herself up to lean on her elbow on one of several pillows that Bickslow seems to keep. A quick swallow of room-temperature water later, and she collapsed back onto the pillows wishing that the medicine could kick in immediately. The cup rested lightly on the comforter above her stomach, held upright by weak fingers.

After sipping on the water for a few minutes, Lucy’s thoughts cleared enough for her to focus on more important matters. Though she remembered everything from last night, albeit a bit fuzzily, she wasn’t sure how she ended up in a bed. Obviously, it had to be Bickslow’s. She unconsciously felt underneath her dress to confirm that she was still wore her panties and stockings from last night and sighed in relief before a surge of guilt hit her for considering the worst of her guildmate.

While the water, now half gone, helped to settle her stomach, Lucy knew it would take a lot more and a day of rest before she felt a hundred percent. Fighting a shiver at the feeling of cold air kissing her skin, she slowly sat up, the sheets gathering around her hips. Her stocking covered feet landed on a hardwood floor, briefly sliding against the smooth surface. Through her restless sleep, the right stocking had slipped to bunch loosely around her ankle. She pulled the bottom of her dress down to make sure it was covering her butt and clutched the water glass as if it were a lifeline as she shuffled to the bedroom door.

Lightning flashed outside, and the rumble of thunder matched her grumbling stomach.

On the other side of the door was a sitting area with the kitchen towards the right by the front door. Even with the bright kitchen light on, the rest of the room was still dark enough to be comfortable to her sensitive eyes. Goosebumps crawled down her arms since this room was even colder. The reason was a window, open wide despite the pouring rain, that had a familiar Seith mage standing by it. Wearing a pair of black sweat pants, a graphic tee of a band she didn’t recognize, and no head gear, he had obviously somehow avoided the post-drunken hell she was currently in.

Bickslow glanced over when he heard his guest come in. Raising his lit cigarette as a greeting, he refrained from chuckling at Lucy’s hunched figure and pinched face. She was a very pathetic yet adorable hungover mage. After giving a barely noticeable nod, the Celestial mage shuffled over to the beat up tan couch in the center of the sitting area and curled up into a ball by the armrest. Red eyes observed her sitting still for a moment before she grabbed the white fleece blanket resting on the back of the couch and pulled it down around herself. Bickslow felt a brief flash of irritation since he had just folded it after his restless sleep on the couch.

She quietly sipped her water.

He took a drag, blowing the smoke out the window.

They remained silent, unsure how to proceed after last night.

“I think I’m dead,” mumbled the woman.

“No you’re not,” assured the man.

“I’m gonna go die, then” she groaned, shutting her eyes as if that would stop the nauseous tightening of her throat.

“You could go take a shower instead,” he offered, hoping that it would help her feel better. Surprisingly, Lucy only groaned louder.

“Ugh! You couldn’t have offered before I got comfortable?” Despite how good a shower sounded, she snuggled herself deeper into the soft blanket, rubbing her cheek against it. The mere thought of moving made her feel sick.

“Are you really that comfy?” Bickslow took one last pull from his cigarette, breathing the smoke in deep, before snubbing it out on the outer side of the brick windowsill. After shutting the window, he walked over to crouch down in front of her, resting his forearms on his thighs.

Amidst her blanket nest, bright brown eyes focused on him.

The white blanket covered everything from her nose down, and he could see her shift underneath as her hands lifted the glass to her mouth. Her hair was akin to a bird’s nest, sticking up in random places, and pale bruises lay under her eyes, stark against her pale skin.

“Hey, Lucy,” he said quietly.

“Hi,” she responded, her voice muffled from the fleece.

“Want to take a shower?” 

She slowly nodded but made no movement to get up. Sighing, Bickslow pulled back the blanket and snatched the now empty cup out of her hands and put it on the dark wood coffee table beside the couch. Then he lifted her into his arms, fuzzy blanket and all.

Except for a shuddering heave that ran through her as the poor girl fought to keep her stomach were it was, Lucy relaxed against him, nuzzling her face into his shoulder and breathing in his woodsy scent. He took her back through his bedroom and into the bathroom. It was nothing special, covered in pale tiles with a porcelain toilet that Bickslow sat his human luggage on. She watched him mess with the shower handles until warm water started to spray and steam moistened the air.

He turned to face her.

First, he took the blanket away, ignoring her cry at the sudden chill, bundled it up and tossed it back through the door where it draped over the edge of his bed.

Next, he stared Lucy down waiting for her to show any initiative to help.

She did not.

Fighting the urge to leave, since babysitting wasn’t in his plan today, Bickslow knelt in front of her and rolled down the left stocking to pull it off along with the right. Clutching the black fabric in his hand, his eyes locked with hers.

“I’m not doing any more than that.” Without waiting for a response, he walked out. “Towels are in the cabinet. If you toss your clothes out here, then I can put them in the wash.” When she still didn’t answer, Bickslow, out of concern, glanced over to see the bombshell blonde easing herself to her feet to pull her dress up over her head.

When a pair of black boyshorts flashed under the rising hem, his face flushed and he quickly exited to the living room, closing the bedroom door behind him.

Running a hand through his hair, Bickslow walked over to the work desk that sat along the wall where he’d smoked earlier. It was made of pale spruce and covered in wood shavings. Amongst the many drawers were all of his carving tools and painting supplies. It wasn’t uncommon for his Babies to get scratched up during battle or, in a rare fight, to be completely destroyed, so he tried to stay stocked up on everything he needed to keep them in top condition.

Sweeping his gaze over the line of totems standing on the desk, Bickslow activated his magic and watched as their eyes lit up while they floated in the air around him. Giggling, they bumping into one another, which was their typical method of greeting, and the Seith mage hoped that they didn’t scratch the fresh coat of paint he had given them just a couple days ago.

“Morning, Babies,” he greeted, giving them a small, if slightly guilty, smile. “Sorry to keep you sleeping for so long.” They had been inactive for most of yesterday evening all the way through this morning. It isn’t fair that they were bound by the limitations of his magic, so Bickslow did what he could to not be a controlling monster. Unless necessary, he generally let them do whatever they wanted, only putting his foot down if they get out of hand or if someone could get hurt.

They were just kids. They didn’t mean any harm.

“S’okay!” Pappa said, nudging against Bickslow’s shoulder.

“Not mad,” Poppo assured.

“No more sleep,” Pippi whined. Bickslow cupped his hands in front of him and let the unhappy totem land on his palms.

“No more sleep,” Bickslow confirmed, rubbing his thumb gently against the smooth wooden side.

Assured that they got to stay awake, all of the totems sped off to fly around the apartment, laughing as they played with each other. Bickslow threw himself down to drape his long limbs over his couch, watching Peppe try to tag the others in their impromptu game.

While Bickslow personally loved stormy days, an excuse to stay inside without putting on his sweaty helm, it meant that he couldn’t let his babies play outside. Even though the cedar he used to carve them was more weather resistant than other woods, he didn’t like exposing them to harsh elements if he didn’t have to.

Plus, the babies had a bad habit of playing in the rain, then flying around his home shaking water everywhere before he had a chance to dry them off.

Peppe knocked into Pippi which started an argument between the two about how Peppe probably cheated. Honestly, Bickslow wasn’t really sure how the totem could have cheated, but Pippi was usually a pretty sore loser.

“Lower it down a notch, babies,” he chided, not wanting their yells to disturb his guest. “Cosplayer isn’t feeling very well.”

All five of the souls went quiet as if listening to the soft patter of the shower head, somewhat hidden within the torrent that raged outside.

Content that they be a little more quiet, Bickslow let himself sink peacefully into the beat up cushions, watching the totems slowly circle around each other.

Something they usually only do when plotting.

“Naked Lucy?” Puppu questioned, suddenly making his way to the bedroom. It took longer than he was proud to admit for Bickslow to fully comprehend what Puppu had said. Long enough that by the time he gave a gentle tug with his magic to tell the soul he needed to come back, Puppu had already made it through his bedroom door.

Bickslow attempted to give the soul a stern look but quickly cracked into a grin, tongue falling out by habit. He held open his arms and all of the totems floated into his hug.

“Come on, babies, let’s go get something for our pretty Cosplayer to wear.” Followed by his babies, Bickslow rapped his knuckles on the door before stepping right in. Double checking that the door to the bathroom was closed, it was actually cracked open a bit, he walked over to the chest drawers on the other side of the room. “Don’t bother her,” he warned, eyes narrowing on the mischievous children meandering toward the steaming room.

Instead of feeling contrite at being caught, they laughed and flew to circle around his head. Grabbing a pair of sweats and a shirt, the mage placed them in a pile on the bed next to the black, bundled up dress which he picked up before leaving. Mentally counting the floating totems before closing the door, Bickslow quickly glanced over the tag in the dress to read the washing instructions.

Last time he didn’t do that, he accidentally shrank one of Evergreen’s nicer dresses. The team had been visiting, and the babies, of course, pulled a prank that involved dumping food all over Ever. So being a good host, Bickslow offered her some clothes and washed the dress.

That’s when he learned that cashmere shrinks. A lot.

Ever smacked him with her fan. A lot. He also had to buy her a new dress that probably cost ten times as much as the one he ruined because of the “emotional trauma” he caused.

Bickslow tossed the bundle into the washing machine rolling his eyes at the memory. Making a mental note to hang it up to dry, he set it to run before heading to kitchen to cook breakfast.

* * *

The hot water beating against her back turned Lucy’s skin pink. It ran in rivulets over her shoulders, and Lucy could feel the tension melting off of her. Her eyes were closed, and she basked in the heat and steam that soothed her head.

Pushing a wet lock of darkened blonde hair behind her ear, the Celestial mage started looking at the various bottles. The one that caught her attention was filled with a dark amber liquid. Popping the cap open, Lucy wrinkled her nose at the strong and unpleasant scent. Since she knew for a fact that Bickslow did not smell like poison, she curiously read the label.

She blinked.

“Is this…..floor cleaner?” Though parts of the label had suffered water damage, Lucy could make out details about wood cleaning. An odd addition to any normal person’s shower kit, of course this was Bickslow. It was probably for the babies. Hopefully.

Placing the bottle back down, Lucy went on to pick up a minty scented shampoo bottle and proceeded to lather her silken hair.

Aquarius’ broken key hung like a weight against her chest, a constant reminder of Tartaros. When Virgo gave her a shimmering, unbreakable chain from the Celestial World  it had come with an offhand compliment of the masochistic nature of the symbolic gesture. It was the only time Lucy had ever considered giving the maid spirit the punishment she craved. 

Sighing and shaking her head to dispel the dark thoughts, she set about finishing her shower. Washing quickly and shutting off the water, Lucy pulled back the translucent gray curtain. The feeling of chilled air mixed with the steam made light shivers flutter through her, and she stepped out onto the soft bathroom mat. She wrung out the extra moisture from her hair and twirled it up into one of the striped towels she had pulled from the cabinet.

It wasn’t until Lucy wiped off and wrapped a large fluffy towel around herself that she was hit with the realization that she was currently naked in the apartment of Bickslow of the Thunder Legion.

A light blush brightened her cheeks.

Clearing her throat in an attempt to straighten her thoughts, Lucy crept into the bedroom, peeking her head in first to make sure that it was empty and the door was closed. In place of her discarded outfit, there was a pile of clean clothes. Blushing harder once she realized that her underwear had ended up bundled with her dress, Lucy chose to suck it up and dropped the towel to the ground. The black sweatpants hung loose, just barely holding on to the wide swell of her hips, and it took several rolls to get the legs cuffed around her ankles. The royal blue t-shirt fit better, though it was mostly due to the size of her breasts making up the difference in how broad the owner is in the shoulders, which left it tight around her chest and hanging loosely everywhere else.

Lucy hung the towel up on the shower rod. Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, she left for the sitting room. This must be what the walk of shame felt like to people, she certainly felt enough embarrassment after last night.

With a clearer mind than before, she was able to look around BIckslow’s apartment.

It was like nothing she had expected.

Maybe it was because she was used to Natsu’s house which looked as though a tornado had blown through, but Bickslow’s place was incredibly clean. Lucy would have expected him to be messy, or at the very least have clutter everywhere, however it didn’t look as though he even had enough stuff to become clutter. Excluding his couch and table in front of a lacrima vision screen and the wooden desk by the wall, it was a very Spartan-styled home.

Then her eyes fell on the Seith mage who was wandering around the kitchen, his babies chasing each other around in the living room. The smell of breakfast wafted towards her, so she followed her nose over to a seat on a stool by the island. As Bickslow turned off the stove and pulled out some plates from a cupboard, he turned and smirked at the blonde.

“Looking lovely as always, Cosplayer,” he smirked. Lucy rolled her eyes, refusing to feel self conscious about the shadows under her eyes or of the fact that she was wearing nothing but his clothes. More seriously, he added, “Feeling any better?”

She nodded, smiling at his concern. The eggs, toast, and bacon he’d made were plated and placed on the island before Bickslow took the seat next to her. Murmuring her thanks as he dug in, Lucy took her first bite of the eggs and paused.

Her face pinched, and she forced a swallow, coughing to try and cover up her reaction. Peeking over at Bickslow, he was staring right at her with a knowing look in his eyes.

“I messed it up, didn’t I?”

“N-no...maybe just a little too much salt,” she lied. Or a lot of too much salt. Enough that she barely tasted the actual eggs, anyway. Instead of being offended, Bickslow laughed, rubbing the back of his head with a flush in his cheeks.

“It’s okay to say it sucks. I don’t normally do much seasoning since I can’t taste much anyway, but I see my unappreciated efforts were in vain.” He shrugged, raising an amused brow to answer her confused expression.

“Can’t taste?” To explain, Bickslow let his tongue hang out, lightly tapping the pale scarring hidden by his guild mark, reminding Lucy of the painful memory he had shared with her the night before. Feeling contrite, she dropped her gaze.

“Don’t worry about it. It doesn’t bother me much,” he said honestly, sending her a wink. “Besides, it gets me out of cooking duty most of the time during missions.” The dulled taste buds really weren’t a big issue for him. As an orphan whose only use was working the fields, meals were never much more than plain rations like water and bread. Since he’d never gotten to taste anything particularly special, Bickslow never knew what he was missing.

In those days, his tongue had been so swollen for so long that by the time it reduced to normal size Bickslow was so happy just to eat again that he didn’t even notice he couldn’t taste much anymore. He’d left Trigo Village after the branding, so he’d been left wandering the desert, his tongue hanging out, because it was more comfortable than fitting the engorged muscle in his mouth.

Shaking his head free of his thoughts, Bickslow playfully glared at his babies.

“I told you it was too much,” he scolded as they came flying in.

“More salt!”

“More, more.”

“Tasty.”

“Bad cook!”

“Pretty Lucy!”

The last comment had the blond turning red as she stared wide-eyed at the group of totems. One of them moved to float in front of her face, the expression painted on the wooden face appearing almost confused. It angled itself slightly, as if tilting its head.

“That’s Puppu. I think he’s got quite the little crush on you,” Bickslow teased, the mentioned baby giggling and landing on top of the Celestial mage’s head. “And I’m gonna get you for calling me a bad cook, Peppe.” The small totem that wore an unhappy frown whined and dejectedly burrowed itself between Lucy’s right arm and her breast.

She found herself chuckling at the childish behavior of Bickslow’s babies. The rest tittered in response to her laughter and went to get cozy against her as well. While the Seith mage went about eating, his eyes remained fixed on the wooden totems, happy to see them getting along so comfortably with someone outside of the Thunder Legion. She picked up and chewed on a piece of bacon, thankfully salt free and only slightly too crispy, and Bickslow noticed something missing from their breakfast.

He stood up and offered her something to drink, listing off the water, milk, and juice he had within his fridge.

“Why have them if you can’t taste the difference?” she blurted out, clapping a hand over her mouth, feeling more than a little shame over her rudeness. “I-I’m sorry.”

Taking pity on his guest, Bickslow explained, “Even if the taste is dulled, I enjoy the different consistencies. Same reason I like different foods.” He filled two glasses with water. “Plus I like being able to offer my friends something other than water. Even Laxus enjoys drinking orange juice.” Stopping mid-pour, Bickslow looked over at her with an uncomfortable look. “Um...don’t let him know I told you that. Thinks it might ruin his image.”

Lucy grinned at the slip up, imagining the large, powerful Lightning Dragonslayer doing something so domestic as drinking juice in the morning. Picking up one of the babies in her hand, a large grin on its face, she held it up in front of her.

“What’s your name?” she asked, missing the surprised yet grateful expression that passed over Bickslow as he listened to her treating his babies so casually.

“Pappa!”

“Oh yeah? It’s very nice to meet you, Pappa,” she cooed. Suddenly all of the totems were introducing themselves, each wanting a piece of her attention. Even though she was caught off guard, she did her best to remember the names and their respective painted-on expression.

It was when Bickslow was walking back over with their drinks that she broke and asked the question she’d been dying to know.

“So where did these little guys come from anyway? They’re souls, right?” Bickslow dropped one of the glasses, spilling it onto the island in shock. His mouth hung agape, speechless and unsure that this was something he really felt like discussing. Especially since the morning had been going so peacefully.

Thankfully, the decision was taken away from him by his babies.

Someday, he should probably teach them about timing and appropriate conversation topics.

“Trigo!” shouted Peppe.

“Wheat fire,” said Pappa.

“Burn burn,” hissed Pippi.

Lucy’s honey brown eyes widened as she turned to her host, who was awkwardly cleaning up the spilled water with a hand towel and pointedly avoided her gaze. They both allowed silence to descend between them, Lucy fighting off the tightness in her chest while looking at the soul filled totems in horrified wonder.

Though the babies didn’t seem to have any problem chanting about the fire they endured, each word they spoke make Bickslow flinch until he stood hunched over the kitchen island, the towel clenched tightly in his fist.

When no one moved or spoke for several minutes, the blonde got up and walked over to her friend, wrapping her arms around him from behind. She rested her cheek against his strong back, ignoring the tremors that shook him.

Her arms tightened and remained where they were until he stopped shaking.

“The babies were your friends, huh? The other orphans in Trigo Village?”

He coughed to clear his throat, though it didn’t remove the roughness from his voice when he replied.

“Told you I’d understand.”

It hadn’t been for days after the incident that Bickslow realized who the shining lights belonged to. A soul leaving its body is a big deal and a huge change. WIthout a properly trained Seith mage to guide them, some souls can forget who they were in life, which usually precedes turning into a poltergeist.

Being such close friends with their Seith mage before their deaths probably helped Pappa and them to remember. Looking back on those days now, it’s terrifying to think that for a few days they had forgotten themselves, which is more common from the souls of children. Granted, they never fully remembered. Their names were lost to them, and Bickslow had been unable to get them to associate themselves with their living names. The best he could manage for the young souls were the very simple names that they went by today.

“Sorry I keep bringing up bad memories, Bix.” Hearing his nickname in her sweet voice twitched the corner of his lips into a half smile. His hands unclenched, and he turned in her arms to wrap his own around her. One hand on her back, the other holding her head to him just under his chin.

This was a hug they both desperately needed.

“I think I need another smoke,” he admitted, naming his favorite relaxation vice. “You don’t mind do you?”

“Only if you don’t share,” Lucy replied dryly.

He pulled away to stare down at her, surprised that Fairy Tail’s resident Celestial mage would be a smoker. A curious brow was raised in disbelief.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” she snapped, folding her arms and petulantly looking away. Bickslow led her over to the window he had been at when she woke up, grabbing his pack off the table. “I wanted my dad’s attention.” Her hand was held out expectantly, pinching the offered cigarette for him to light. “Smoking seemed like the perfect rebellion to get it.”

Lucy put it to her lips, and Bickslow opened the window, amplifying the sounds of the storm outside. The wind blew specks of cold rain against them even though the storm seemed to be lightening up.

“It didn’t work,” she admitted, taking a drag and blowing the smoke out the window. The smoke warmed her lungs, a feeling she found rather soothing. While not something she indulged in often, the bad habit always managed to calm her. These days it tended to remind her of her fire spitting best friend but without the destructive tendencies. She could only imagine the reactions of her team if they discovered her bad habit.

Thankfully, with how much time Natsu spent in her apartment - with her permission or otherwise - it always had the faint scent of fire and smoke. While normally a bother, it meant that she never had to bother hiding the smell when she lit up.

Bickslow watched as Lucy fell into her thoughts, peacefully gazing out the window. Smoking always helped to calm him down, and the babies usually went off somewhere else so that he could clear his head. A crash as something hit the ground let him know that they had disappeared into his bedroom. He winced at the thought of having to clean up whatever it was they broke.

Before long, Lucy and Bickslow were leaning against the wall on opposite sides of the window, watching as their smoke would quickly dissipate into the cloudy sky. Quick flashes of lightning bathed them in white light.

This whole situation felt like an obscure dream to Bickslow. Enjoying a smoke with his Cosplayer as a storm raged outside after telling her things about himself that only the Thunder Legion knew. His gaze refused to leave her, as if he was scared she’d vanish the moment he looked away. Red eyes faintly shined green when he observed the glowing orb within her chest. The bright soul possessed a warmth he could almost feel within himself, and he was relieved to see that the dark edge that had given him such worry seemed to have calmed and stabilized, for now at least.

When the pressure in his eyes eased as he disabled his magic, Bickslow caught the outline of Aquarius’ broken key underneath her borrowed shirt.

An uncomfortable weight sat in his gut until he forced himself to break their silence.

“Something’s been bugging me.” The Celestial mage turned her head to face him, eyes wide with an open curiosity.

“Oh? Shoot.” Taking a moment to chew his bottom lip, hesitating to ask, but forcing out the words when her brow rose impatiently.

“Well, it’s just that I thought that magic keys were supposed to be pretty sturdy,” he began, watching with a pang as color fled from her face, obviously aware of what he was about to ask. “So how did a golden key break?”

Silence descended around them as she postponed an answer by taking a long drag, holding in the smoke to feel its comforting burn, before letting it out. Lucy was quiet long enough that Bickslow wondered if she was even going to answer.

“It didn’t break on its own,” she admitted quietly. “I broke it.”

“You...you killed your spirit?” His jaw had dropped and his fingers barely kept hold of his lit cigarette. He couldn’t understand any of this. Why would any Celestial mage, especially one who loved her spirits as much as Lucy, do something like that?

“No!” she quickly defended, brown eyes wide and horrified at the mere thought, finally facing him head on. “But she can never again be summoned to this world.”

“But why? Why would you do that?” he demanded, anger bubbling up inside him. His mind went to his beloved souls, playing just in the other room, imagining if they had been forced away. To never see them again.

“Because it was the only way to save everyone!” Her eyes misted over even though she was trying to keep her composure with a stoic face. Gritting her teeth, Lucy roughly twisted the lit butt on the window sill to hide her shaking hand. Just like that, his anger left him when he saw the same suffering within those teary brown orbs.

A hand grabbed hers and pulled her against his warm body. The dam broke, and long arms kept her secure as she sobbed into his black shirt, fingers clutching at the fabric that covered his chest.

“S-she made me d-do it,” the blond cried, her voice muffled. “T-told me I, that I had to be st-strong.”

“You don’t need to say any more,” he whispered, nuzzling the top of her head. Bickslow had the quick realization that she had almost let Fairy Tail die in order to spare her spirit, but pushed the thought away. “And all of this is just between you and me, Lucy.”

Her breathing hitched when she heard him finally say her actual name, and a shaky smile curled her lips. The smaller mage shifted in his arms until a slender pinkie curled around his.

“Thunder Legion Pinkie Swear,” she choked out. His finger tightened around hers.

“Thunder Legion Pinkie Swear,” he agreed.

Bickslow held onto her until a sudden thought burst into his mind. Before Lucy knew what was happening, her friend disappeared into his room.

“I just remembered something,” he called to her. The surprise of him running of made her quietly laugh, sniffling a final time while she wiped away some of her tears with the heel of her right hand. Through the door, she could hear him talking to himself and to the babies. “Now where did I put it?” Shuffling and laughter as the babies probably tried to help. “No, it’s not up there, Poppo.” Something dropped with a crash, and Bickslow cursed. “You’re not helping, Peppe!” Lucy couldn’t help the chuckles that escaped her.

A victorious shout sounded, and Bickslow reappeared, cigarette perched between his grinning teeth and a wooden case in his hands. He was glad to see Cosplayer smiling, despite the redness of her eyes and cheeks.

The case was wide but no taller than a jewelry box, the outer a smooth cherry wood finish. The hinge groaned slightly as Bickslow opened it and revealed an inside lined with black velvet.

Two silver keys resting within. They were very similar, the blades shaped like the clawed paws of a bear, and the handles were round with the images of a large and small bear, respectively.

“This is Ursa Major and Ursa Minor,” she commented, her chest tightening as she was handed the box. Bickslow nodded.

“Yeah, I got them as part of a reward for a mission I took a few weeks ago,” he explained, plucking his cigarette out from his mouth and snubbing it out.

“A few weeks?” Lucy’s brow furrowed in confusion as his face flushed. He set about closing the window to avoid her gaze.

“Um...well, I meant to give them to you,” he muttered, meeting her gaze, “but I kept forgetting them here whenever I went to the guild.” She lifted a hand to went to brush a digit along one of the keys only to stop at the last moment and close the case instead. It shut with a loud snap. Lucy walked over and gently placed it on the couch’s side table.

She swallowed and looked over to Bickslow, suspicious green eyes watching her, having expected a different, more excited, reaction from her.

Her feet quickly crossed back over so that she could throw her arms around his neck.

“Thank you, Bix,” she said, tilting her head back. His attention immediately snapped from worry to an acute awareness of how close their faces now were.

“Are you okay?”

“Of course.” She smiled, but he knew she was lying. The darkness in her soul flared when she saw his gift. Even now the black flames were flickering, threatening to devour the light.

“I can tell that you’re not.” Her grip around his neck tightened, pulling him down closer to her so she could lean her forehead against his.

“Please, Bickslow,” she begged, their noses brushing. Red eyes bled into the earthy tones of her gaze. For the briefest moment, she allowed all of her emotions to flicker into her expression. He saw the pain and guilt and anger that she kept hidden from the rest of Fairy Tail. “Just let me pretend, okay?”

He could feel their warm breaths mixing, the smell of cloves drifting between them.

Lucy brushed her lips against his, and Bickslow pulled back slightly.

“Lucy, I...we…” he stammered, torn between the desire he felt for his beautiful Cosplayer and the feeling that he’d be taking advantage of her emotional state.

She kissed him again, pressing herself flush against him.

“Please. Help me to forget, Bickslow,” she whispered. The Seith mage’s hands fell to her hips. “Even if it’s just for a little while.” Lucy moved a hand to his cheek, making his jaw tense, still unconvinced. “Let’s forget our pain together.”

Bickslow felt the raw scar on his tongue rub the roof of his mouth. Her words combined with the earlier reminder of his old pain. He felt the pulse of his babies’ souls and saw the longing for relief in Lucy’s eyes. A part of him still raged that this was wrong and that they’d both regret it later, but a stronger voice inside him wanted to stay in this moment. To finally be able to share this pain with someone and maybe make some of it go away for them both.

“Ah, fuck it,” he cursed, gripping the back of her head and crashing their lips together. His hands then moved down to grip her thighs, lifting her until her legs wrapped around his waist.

“Please, Bix,” she moaned, fingers clutching the back of his shoulders.

Bickslow carried her towards his room. One quick look at the receding darkness within her told him that she needed the distraction.

Maybe he did, too.


	4. Chapter 4

 

Her side of the bed was still empty when Bickslow woke up. Late last night he had crawled in through her window, as was the Fairy Tail tradition, hoping she’d be back from the mission with her team. Alas, the apartment was dark and cold.

Even though the two of them usually hung out at his place, as it rarely had a Dragonslayer sniffing about, Lucy had offered her own home to him in case of emergency. He had woken up in a cold sweat from a nightmare and coming here, surrounding himself with traces of her spirit, soothed him enough to get through the rest of the night.

Groaning as a beam of light spread across his face, Bickslow grabbed the puffy pink comforter and pulled it over his head. He pressed his nose into the soft pillow, breathing in the scent of strawberry lemonade. Rolled onto his side, legs slightly bent in order to fit his large frame on the bed, the Seith mage floated on the edge of consciousness when a door slamming shut jolted him awake.

Lucy was torn between her desire to burst into tears and to punch something when she arrived home. If she was surprised to see a line of wooden totems on her desk and a mop of blue hair peeking out from her covers, then she didn’t show it. After chucking her backpack onto the couch and placing her ring of Celestial Spirit keys next to Puppu, the blonde mage made her way to the bed, shedding her clothes as she went. She was down to her underwear when she crawled between the warm fabrics and wrapped her arms around the surprise, but not unwelcome, guest.

Bickslow pulled her closer to his bare chest.

“Bad mission?” he asked, nuzzling his face into her hair. Her hold on him tightened, and their legs tangled together.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she growled. He could feel her trembling against him, but even after the last couple weeks of forgetting with each other, he didn’t have the right to nose in where she didn’t want him.

So they laid there in silence, curled up in the other’s warmth.

“I miss her,” Lucy finally whispered. Bickslow felt warm tears dampening the skin where she smothered her face. Despite being a major contributing factor to bringing them together, the two mages rarely chose to discuss their pain. They always told each other their problems as opposed to speaking with their other friends, but the basis of their relationship was a little bit of wallowing mixed with a whole lot of ignoring. “It was a water monster. And they just kept yelling and yelling.” Her fists clenched until her knuckles turned white. “Telling me to summon her, and I couldn’t, and I couldn’t tell them why!”

“What happened?” he prompted when she fell silent.

“I ran away.” Lucy shoved him far enough away to create space to turn over to hide her face. “It was pathetic,” she bit out angrily into her pillow. “Middle of a fight, and I ran. I just couldn’t breathe, and my hands started shaking. It was like everything was closing in on me, and I couldn’t think straight.” She covered her teary eyes with her hand and curled into a ball.

Shifting over, Bickslow pressed close to her back and tossed an arm over her waist. Now that had cried and yelled most of her anger out, she’d be more receptive to him.

“It’s not pathetic,” he assured. “You were having a panic attack. Happened to me a few times when I was younger.”

“R-really?” Sniffling, she arched back into his embrace, letting him provide his comfort.

“Yeah. They suck.” A short bark of surprised laughter escaped her, forcing her frown into a tiny smile at the oversimplification.

“They really do,” she agreed.

“Your hair looks awful, by the way.” Lucy gasped indignantly and looked over her shoulder at her grinning companion.

“I just got back from a mission. What’s your excuse?” she snarked. Clapping a hand to his chest in mock pain, the blue/black haired man sat up, allowing the comforter to fall around his waist.

“So cruel and here I was gonna offer to make you breakfast.”

“It’s lunchtime, idiot.”

“First meal of the day is breakfast. Now,” he pulled back the covers and lightly smacked her ass, “go take a shower.” With his long limbs, Bickslow easily crawled over her. Pausing only to pull his discarded pants over his black boxers, he gave Lucy an expectant look until she gave him an irritated groan and sluggishly got out of her warm, comfy bed.

There was a stiffness in her shoulders that Bickslow knew wasn’t from physical exhaustion. A quick look through shimmering green Seith eyes showed that the black flickers were minute, probably because he’d  managed to calm her down, but the fact that they were still there at all set his mouth in a hard line. Walking to her bathroom, Lucy stripped off her underwear as she went, pausing only to stick her tongue out at her guest in a brief show of pettiness, before closing the door behind her.

As soon as he heard the shower start, Bickslow headed over to make good on his promise of breakfast, something he’s been getting better at despite his tasting disability. Despite his occasional visits, the layout of the Celestial mage’s kitchen wasn’t something Bickslow was inherently familiar with so he had to resort to opening every drawer and cabinet before he could find everything he needed. It was well stocked, surprising since he was well aware of her team’s habit of breaking in and helping themselves, but he stopped searching after opening one of the cabinets that hung above her stove.

It wasn’t one that Lucy would be able to reach easily, so Bickslow hadn’t expected to find anything in there, but on the highest shelf within was a wooden box. Curiosity always getting the better of him, he reached a long arm up and still barely reached far enough to slide it to the edge where he could grab it.

The very familiar wooden box felt cold in his hands. The sound of Lucy in the shower faded into the background of his mind while he lifted the lid open. Inside were two silver keys, just as they’d been when he gave them to her weeks ago. Honestly, he had never given them a second thought after finally remembering to give them to the Celestial mage, and she never mentioned the keys to him, not even what they were like or their abilities in battle. Granted, aside from their first night together, deep conversations weren’t common between them. Normal conversation wasn’t that common, either, to be honest, but an update on her new keys may have been expected.

The bigger question is why were they on an unreachable shelf in her kitchen. Bickslow didn’t know how long he stood leaning against her counter cradling that open box, but when he looked up there was a curvy woman wearing a pink towel, blond hair darkened from water, and brown eyes lit with horror. The Seith mage gestured his gift towards her.

“Lucy, what is this doing here?” There was the slightest flinch in her expression in acknowledgement of how serious he was, both in tone and the use of her actual name. Bare feet padded against the floor and soft hands snatched the box, slammed it shut, and set it on the counter.

“It’s nothing to worry about,” she assured, placing a hand against the warm skin of his chest. Tilting her head to look at him, Lucy forced a smile. He frowned in return. “Now, why don’t we do something a little more fun?” Her hand slid down his chest, lightly scraping her nails against the flesh, while the other curled into the blue hair at the nape of his neck. Lucy pulled him down for a bruising kiss, growling in irritation when Bickslow didn’t respond. Instead, he grabbed her hands and pulled away.

“This isn’t something you can just avoid,” he said, narrowing his eyes. Lucy rolled her eyes, stepping closer until her breasts pressed against him. Wrapping her arms around Bickslow’s shoulders, her mouth stopped inches from his own.

“Of course it is.” When she went for another kiss, the elder mage turned his head, so she settled for planting soft kisses across his jaw and down his neck. Bickslow grabbed her shoulders and pushed her away to hold her at arm’s-length.

“Talk to me, Lucy!”

“That isn’t what we do, Bickslow,” she huffed, angrily, unhooking her towel and letting it drop around her feet to convince him to see things her way. He forced his gaze to stay on her face.

“Well maybe it should be!” They both fell silent and froze in the face of the his confession. Lucy’s breath hitched, and she turned her head away.

Said in the heat of the moment, Bickslow begged Mavis to let him take back his words as his sometimes-lover picked up her damp towel off the floor and walked to her room without a word. For once, watching her naked backside sway as she walked away didn’t make Bickslow smile. Instead he covered his face with his hands and groaned.

Sparing a glance at the catalyst of his irritation, the Seith mage continued on his original mission to cook food for the both of them while Lucy calmed down. While pieces of french toast sizzled on the stove, he tossed away eggshells and put away ingredients, leaving out the cinnamon to dash a little extra on the cooking bread. After checking to make sure nothing was burning and flipping over the slices, plates were fetched and mugs filled with hot coffee, each with sugar and his lightened to a pale cocoa with cream.

It was quick and easy to prepare the plates once everything was completed. Cut up strawberries were discovered within the bottom shelf of her fridge and a drizzle of syrup topped off the final presentation. Bickslow loved making french toast for Lucy, because he only had to mix a few ingredients and then cook it. Even with his dulled sense of taste, it was something even he couldn’t screw up. Bickslow slowly opened the bedroom door and saw that the kind Celestial mage had crawled back into bed with the covers pulled high over her head.

A quick pulse of magic activated the five wooden totems still resting on the desk. Quickly giving a silent order to stay quiet, when their eyes glowed green, his babies lifted into the air and floated over to him. They passed through the crack in the doorway above his head and circled each other in the kitchen.

The childish souls happily helped their mage carry breakfast, balancing dishes on their heads. Bickslow stepped over a damp, discarded towel on the floor and sat at the edge of the bed, down by Lucy’s knees. A heavy hand gently fell on her covered thigh.

“Hey, Lucy,” he whispered. “I made you something.” The hidden figure barely shifted, the comforter clutched tighter by her head. Mouth set in a frown, red eyes peered out to see five pairs of green eyes looking back. Pippi hovered over to the person-shaped lump, trying to temp Lucy with the smell of warm food coming from the plate the soul was carrying. Bickslow heard a faint grumbling sound. “Please?”

Slowly the covers inched down and misty brown eyes appeared, however she made no other movement to come out of her hiding spot. Painful silence grew between them. Making a quick decision, hoping he wouldn’t regret this one, he asked the babies to drop breakfast along the foot of the bed. There were only minor splatters as the plates hit the surface, but Bickslow would admit that telling Pappa and Peppe to also put down the cups of hot coffee lacked foresight.

In his haste to grab the mugs before they spilled out onto the comforter, which he only half-succeeded in since a brown stain now soaked the corner, Bickslow didn’t think about the ramifications of touching the burning ceramic cups. The shock of heat caused him to accidentally fling them away. He flinched when he heard them break against the floor. As his red eyes narrowed at the puddle spreading out on the floor, he felt instead of saw the burning gaze pointed at the back of his head.

The babies had begun apologizing, but the sincerity was lost amongst their giggles.  _ Babies, go play with Freed for a couple of hours _ , Bickslow said to the souls.  _ Poppo is in charge _ . Said totem began cackling, eyes glowing a little brighter, and led his companions out the open window to bother the unfortunate and unsuspecting Rune mage.

Leaving Lucy alone for a few minutes, Bickslow set about cleaning up the mess, silently thanking Mavis that the floor wasn’t carpet. He could feel her eyes watching him as he mopped up the spill with a damp towel, but after he had left to rinse it out in the kitchen sink and returned, the blonde had turned over and cocooned herself back within her sheets. The breakfast plates remained untouched at the foot of the bed.

Holding back a sigh, Bickslow took the plates back into the kitchen. There would be no getting her to eat until she felt better. Setting them on the counter for now, the Seith mage picked up the wooden box with the two silver keys and brought it with him as he went to sit on the edge of Lucy’s bed.

“Do you want to talk to me?” he asked, holding back an irritated groan when the covers shifted to cover her even more. “Will you at least tell if there’s something wrong with the keys?”

The comforter moved again, but this time it seemed like she was releasing them from the clutching claws he knew she had gripped them in. It was hard to be patient, however Bickslow was rewarded when blonde hair appeared and then her eyes, but her face still looked the other way.

“It’s not them,” she muttered.

“Then what’s wrong?”

“They’re not the problem.” Lucy finally rolled over and showed him her wet eyes and red cheeks. “I am.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Cosplayer,” he assured, hands twitching from the want to hold her.

“I’m not good enough.” The blonde shook her head and pressed a fist to her mouth. “The Ursa keys deserve a better Celestial mage.”

“What about your other spirits?” Bickslow asked, refraining from running an exasperated hand down his face.

“I’m too selfish to let them go, but I won’t trap another spirit to suffer with me.” As she mumbled angrily, Lucy’s brown eyes hardened. 

“You can’t just never make another spiritual contract,” the Seith mage told her, narrowing his eyes. It didn’t matter how much he liked her or how good she looked with the sunlight making her golden hair shine, he wasn’t going to let her act like a brash idiot.

“Why can’t I?” she yelled suddenly sitting up. For a brief moment Bickslow was thankful that she had pulled on a tank top, the pale orange fabric creating a barrier to help keep his focus in check. “You never took another soul!”

“That’s different!”

“Why?”

“Because no one had to die for your magic!” he snapped, hands white knuckling the wooden case situated on his lap. A furious red mottled his face along with disbelief that she would try to use his babies against him. Tense silence descended around them. The blonde woman’s eyes widened as if she also couldn’t believe that she had dared to compare her spirits to his souls.

Moving slowly to give him time to refuse, Lucy wrapped her arms around his chest from behind and pressed her cheek against his back. Even though his body tensed at first, she was relieved when the muscles slowly relaxed and let out a breath that she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-” she started to say until he cut her off.

“You were angry.”

“That doesn’t make it okay.”

“I say it’s okay,” he insisted, but his tense tone made it clear that he was still fuming. A lot of members in the guild, Lucy noticed, assumed that Bickslow never got angry. In their defense, he rarely was, but it was more that it took a lot to push him to that point and then he was usually quick to cool off.

Negative comments regarding his childish souls ranked number one on his shit list. Someone could badmouth Lucy or the Thunder Legion or even Laxus if they wanted to. Bickslow would get mad and defend his friends, but he also knew they were all strong mages capable of defending their own pride. His babies either couldn’t or wouldn’t.

They had died at an age where subtlety was an imaginary concept and unless things were spelled out simply, they weren’t likely to fully understand. To gleefully insult Pappa, Peppe, Pippi, Poppo, and Puppu was to be rude to Bickslow’s childhood friends, to dead children. To then laugh afterwards when they don’t realize they’re being insulted, is to cross one of the only lines that the Seith mage has.

“I was disrespectful to your magic and to the babies,” Lucy said, shame coloring her cheeks. “I’ve also been acting like a brat when you were only trying to help.”

His chest heaved a heavy sigh, but after a moment, Bickslow moved a hand back to land on her covered leg.

“You’re always a brat,” he joked, his voice thick as he weakly attempted to lighten the air between them. Instead of a mock offended chuckle, Lucy remained silent, giving him the chance to speak up about what was bothering him. He sighed again and admitted, “There are sometimes that I hate my magic.”

That he hated himself.

“It’s just,” Bickslow groaned, covering his face with his large hand, “I love my souls. They’re my friends. My family. And I don’t know what I’d do without them.”

Lucy’s breath caught when his torso shook. She pulled back enough to slip under his arm and witness his face shatter. Her cheek pressed against his rigid shoulder.

“I just wish they hadn’t had to die,” he said quietly, his voice even despite the pain that clenched his jaw and wrinkled his brow.

“They love you, Bickslow,” she responded, squeezing her arms tighter around him. As rare as an angry Bickslow was, a broken Bickslow was even more so, and she knew how much it meant that he was willing to show this type of vulnerability to her.

“And your spirits love you, Lucy.” A wooden box was held out to her. Lucy stared at it before unwrapping an arm to take it, balancing it on her leg. Keeping herself pressed against the Seith mage, trying to ignore her thumping heart, the blonde opened the case and let herself touch the silver keys for the first time. A slender index finger traced along the smooth metal that hummed with magical energy.

They were warm, and she couldn’t believe that she had let herself shut them away for so long. Crystalline tears swelled in the corners of her honey brown eyes, but it wasn’t sadness the shone through when she met the red gaze of her companion.

Bickslow returned her hesitant smile with one of his own. Proper contract summoning etiquette, taught to her by her mother, made her stand after moving the box onto the bed behind her. Her fingers interlocked with his, bringing him to his feet with her, and the other hand grasped the paw shaped silver keys. Allowing the magic to flow through her, they glowed with a golden light.

“I call upon thee in the world of the Celestial Spirits. I beckon you to my side at once. Pass through the gate! Open Gate of the Ursa Major!”

“I call upon thee in the world of the Celestial Spirits. I beckon you to my side at once. Pass through the gate! Open Gate of the Ursa Minor!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Such is the ending for now. It wasn’t quite as dramatic as the other chapters, in my opinion, but hopefully it was a satisfying end to my dramatic series.


End file.
